


Phantom of the Millennium Centre

by Paycheckgurl



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Canon typical murder, Case Fic, Gen, Horror classic homage, Murder Mystery, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness, The Phantom of the Opera is a Universal Classic Horror Monster it counts, Torchwood Fanfests Halloween, Torchwood Fanfests Trick or Treat, Torchwood Halloween Fest 2020, canon typical profanity, im technically late for week one shhhh, references to big finish dinner and a show, torchwood fanfests week one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paycheckgurl/pseuds/Paycheckgurl
Summary: There’s been a murder at the Welsh National Opera, right on Torchwood’s doorstep. The set up is a bit too familiar for the team’s liking.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Halloween Fest 2020





	1. Part I

Elizabeth Griffiths was a rising star just a decade too late into her career. A local Cardiff darling, she’d been a natural talent at hitting notes other opera singers could only dream of, and even better with her training. After a strange incident several months ago, international talent at the Welsh National Opera stopped coming as readily. It wasn’t great for the Opera House overall, but it was great for Elizabeth. Suddenly, she was center stage. Suddenly, she was getting the respect she deserved after decades honing her talents. Until the night came that she wasn’t.

“Why is my understudy performing tomorrow?” She’d demanded her agent. “My voice is perfectly healthy; I’ve had two voice coaches and a private physician confirm!” 

Her agent, Greg Jones, was a stout little man. Good with emails to the right people, bad with confrontation in person. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But the directions came from above. You’ll perform the night after as scheduled; consider it a night off.” 

“No!” She demanded. “Where’s the director? Get me Smiths!” 

“Mr. Smiths has made it quite clear…” 

“Quite clear, what? That he fancies Kristen? That a second rate,  _ child, _ is going to replace me right under my nose, while I’m at the top of my game?!” 

She stormed past Greg, physically shoving him for good measure. She shouted at the top of her lungs about injustice and being replaced, and let it echo through the opera house. She would find Mr. Smiths herself. The absolute nerve of that man to do this to  _ her _ of all people. 

She knocked on the office door with fury. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. When the results turned up empty, she simply turned the knob and went in anyways. 

Mr. Smiths was not in his office. But someone else was. The singer barely managed to scream for the last time in her life; the last time her gifted voice would ring in the halls of the opera house. Her lifeless form would be found alone in the office, as a shadowy figure stalked alone in the distance.   


* * *

Torchwood pulled up to the crime scene in formation, sunglasses on. They hadn’t had to go far. This call had been all but literally on their doorstep. 

“Oh great,” said Ianto dryly. “The bloody opera house again.” 

“And I’m frustratingly sober this time,” muttered Tosh beside him. 

The last mission here could have gone better, but that was partially on it having been a team of two, while a member of said duo was twelve drinks in. Their back up had been, in order: fucking off in a blue police box somewhere for months, too busy making moony eyes on her valentines date with her fiancé to notice the missed calls, and deliberately standing up an inviation for a “not-date” at this very locations causing half the duo to be that drunk in the first place. 

PC Andy Davidson gave them an eye roll as they came in. “Of course,” he sighed. “Who knew little green men liked opera?” 

Ianto and Tosh shared a  _ look _ at that. The others simply ignored the comment. 

Once inside the crime scene Owen began leaning over the body. 

“Right,” said Jack. “Our victim would happen to be Elizabeth Griffiths. Local woman. Great voice. Bit of an ego by all accounts.” 

Gwen tried and failed to hide a large smile and laugh. 

“Bit of an ego, sir?” said Ianto, who had not even bothered to hide the laugh that escaped past his enforced professionalism. 

Tosh hid her giggle behind her hand. 

“I’m not  _ that  _ bad,” he complained. 

Owen ignored the opening for a dig at their boss entirely, as he was suddenly very intrigued by the corpse. “Well this is interesting,” he announced. “Opera Lady here died of being blunged along with possible asphyxiation (although the strangulation could have been post mortem), but whatever did it didn’t exactly have a human level of strength. You can tell just by the markings. Finger markings around the neck look human enough, but they’re pretty fucking big.” 

“Well big hands, you know what they say,” said Jack. “Right, possible species with advanced strength. We’re bagging her. Owen, prepare her for transport. Gwen, get a witness list from Andy, do your thing. Ianto, go with Gwen for interview dictation. Toshiko, get me a list of every employee with access to the offices and the CCTV footage. I’ll head back to the hub with you and Owen.” They nodded, and accepted the assignments.   


* * *

Andy hadn’t exactly been thrilled about handing over witness access, but he hadn’t exactly said “no” either. 

“It was one of the stagehands that found her,” he told them, after some token pleading eyes from Gwen (she could have just as easily ordered him, but Gwen always did have a soft spot for her former partner). “Kyle Morgan. Although I guess the whole crew present heard the scream and was running that way right behind them.” Andy led the way to the first witness. “Whole thing’s weird,” he said. “But then I’d guess it’d have to be for you lot to get mixed up in it.” 

Gwen and Ianto sat next to each other, and sat Kyle Morgan across from them. 

“Mr. Morgan,” said Gwen sweetly. “Do you mind if we ask a few questions?” 

He nodded slightly, shaken. 

“Alright, if you need to stop at any time feel free, love. You’re not in any trouble, we just want to understand what happened to Elizabeth.” 

Again, he nodded slightly. 

“Where did you find her?” she began. 

“In Smiths’ office. Ifan Smiths, he’s the director of the show.” 

“Was Mr. Smiths in his office when you found her?” 

He shook his head. “She was looking for him I think. She was upset. Screaming and cursing. Something about her understudy taking over a performance, she probably wanted to scream at him specifically.”

Beside Gwen, Ianto’s eyebrows shot up. 

“This was an unscheduled change I’m guessing, then?” asked Gwen. 

“So the rumors said.” He shook his head again. “Half the rumor mill said Smiths had a crush on Kristen Day. The other half said Kristen’s managers pulled for some kind of agreement to get her more stage time.” 

“Do you know where Mr. Smiths was?” asked Gwen. 

“Out on lunch, I think. For what it’s worth when he heard he looked right shaken.” He looked down. “We all were.” 

“And did you see anyone? Anyone near the body, anyone you didn’t recognize backstage?” 

“I thought...I thought I saw someone in an old Victorian opera cape costume. But there’s no costumes like that in  _ Hannibal _ , it’s based on Roman times. Guess I could have been seeing things from the stress, you know?” He looked very intensely at the floor. 

“It’s alright, common trauma response,” Gwen soothed. 

Ianto pressed his lips together tightly. 

Gwen let the man go on his way, and the pair wordless began to walk towards what had been the performer’s dressing room to poke around. It was unlocked, and they had not even bothered to ask Andy or the other police for access. 

“Entirely too many mirrors, said Gwen. “Who needs to look at themselves from this many angles? It’ll give you a complex.” 

“If she was jealous of the understudy, then I think she had already had a bit of a ‘fairest of them all’ thing going on,” said Ianto. 

“Well it looks normal enough aside from that,” said Gwen. “Costumes, make up, entirely too many uncomfortable shapewear under things — seems to fit with the profile. We should probably move on to talk to Smiths then.” 

“And that Day woman,” said Ianto. “Never trust an understudy.” 

Gwen nodded beside him. “I was just about to say.” She looked around. “Ianto?” Ianto had been next to her. Seconds ago. And she had been in a dressing room. This wasn’t a dressing room. It felt distressingly like the hub. Damp and sewer like. 

Gwen felt herself lose consciousness. The only thing she remembered before fading, was the vague outline of an opera mask. 

* * *

“What have you got for me, Tosh?” asked Jack back at the hub. 

“CCTV at the opera house has been deleted in chunks going back at least two months. It’s a recent enough thing that the last time we were there last it wasn’t going on, but it’s a clear pattern of deletion.” 

“Including during the murder?” asked Jack. 

“Exactly,” said Tosh. “But that’s not the only thing that’s strange. I did the personnel access search you asked me for and while all personnel are accounted for, there’s an extra access card that isn’t assigned to anyone's name in particular.” 

“Looks like our opera house stranger made themselves an entry card then, good work Tosh.” 

“As if I stopped only there,” she said, quite pleased with herself. “Once I knew something was fishy with the crew I expanded the search to the audience numbers and ticket sales. And wouldn’t you know it? There’s an entire luxury box that hasn’t been sold for two months. Even when the rest of the seats are sold out. And the deleted CCTV footage? At least half of it is in that box. Our friend isn’t quite as a through as he thinks though. I did manage to get a still.” 

It was grainy and the figure was off in the corner. But in the footage of the box Toshiko had did show the vague outline of a figure wearing a long coat or cape. 

“Huh…” Jack trailed off. A thought occurred to him but he didn’t voice it, as that was when his comm link blinked to life. 

Jack tapped the ear piece. “Ianto?”

“Jack, get back here now. It’s Gwen!” 


	2. Part II

She was right next to me!” exclaimed Ianto. “It was like she was there and then she wasn’t.” 

The rest of Torchwood stormed the dressing room. And there, lying on the floor unconscious, was Gwen. 

“Looks like she’s right here,” said Owen. 

“I’m telling you,” said Ianto. “She wasn’t when I called you all back here!” 

Owen kneeled down to examine her. Just as he had, she began to come to. “Urgggg Owen?” she managed. “My head. What happened?” 

“We were hoping you could tell us,” said Jack. “Ianto said you disappeared right in front of his eyes.” 

Gwen looked up at her teammates. She strained to look at them, still feeling dizzy. 

“Follow my finger, Gwen,” ordered Owen. She managed it, but still felt dizzy. “Right, I’m going to need you to tell me the date, the current prime minister, and the last time you caught Jack and the tea boy shagging.” 

“Oh sod off Owen,” said Ianto. 

“Not with you thanks, I’ve got some standards,” said Owen. 

Gwen managed to answer the first two parts of the question and added a “you sure you don’t mean the last time I caught you and your hand getting lonely, Owen?” for good measure. The dizziness hadn’t subsided entirely, but she was aware at least. 

“Well it’s not a concussion, but we should keep an eye on her,” Owen pronounced. 

Jack had walked off, and made his way to one of the mirrors. He knocked on the frame of it to the tune of shave and a hair cut. 

“It’s hollow,” he announced.

Tosh got a scanner out, and looked at it curiously. As she did Owen leaned back to cross his arms. And then he jumped. Because the wall he’d chosen to lean on suddenly wasn’t there. 

“There’s a passage way,” said Ianto as he pointed out the obvious. “In the mirror.” 

“I don’t like it,” said Jack. “The only people who should have expansive sewer access secret bases on this Plass are us.” 

As they always did, the four followed after him. 

“The hub doesn’t extend here,” said Ianto. 

“Or at least it shouldn’t,” said Jack. “But someone definitely has a similar taste in decor.” 

“Maybe this was supposed to connect to hub, and the original builders never completed the connection,” said Tosh. “Ran into an unstable tunnel somewhere during the dig.” 

“Jack?” asked Owen. “As our resident expert on the Torchwood of old…”

He shrugged. “Like Tosh said, it could have gotten dug out and never connected. Or it was connected and it got blocked off at some point. I know there was at least one cave in during the Cardiff Blitz. Either way, we should come back with torches and see where it leads. But in the meantime there’s some more questions we should be asking.” 

Team Torchwood turned around and made their way back to the dressing room. They missed the figure in the cape that watched them from the shadows, and the white half mask hanging on the wall. 

* * *

“Kristen Day,” said Jack brightly. The girl looked startled. She was visibly much younger than the woman she was set to understudy for. Pretty and slight features, there was almost a waifish quality to her. She wore a pretty necklace with a crystal hanging off a golden chain. 

“Oh hello, are you with the police?” she asked. 

“More or less,” was Jack’s easy not-answer. “Apparently, Elizabeth Griffiths had it out for you.” 

“I already told the other coppers I don’t know anything!” she exclaimed. The sudden indignation in her voice stood in contrast to the strange aura of innocence her appearance radiated. “I don’t know why he asked Smiths for me to take over and I don’t know why that poor woman is dead!” 

“Don’t know why  _ who  _ asked Smiths?” 

“He’s my voice coach.” 

“Your voice coach,” he repeated. “What’s his name?” 

“I don’t know it.” 

Jack blinked blankly. “What, is he new?” 

“No, he’s never told me.”

“He’s never told you his name,” Jack repeated for emphasis. 

“I think he might be a ghost,” she said. 

The lights went out. The team felt something move above them. The chandelier overhear swayed. Jack grabbed Ianto and Tosh, who were closest to him. Owen grabbed Gwen, and Gwen in turn grabbed Kristen. The curtains moved, a figure was behind them, and someone was deliberately lowering the chandelier to the ground. Everyone shoved everyone as far away as they could get them. 

The glass chandelier fell to the ground, shattering into pieces over the empty audience seats. By the time Torchwood had begun to chase the cape clad figure they’d spotted behind the curtain, he was already gone. 

* * *

Torchwood stood over the broken glass, trying to collect themselves after the chase. Kristen had gone, they’d lost sight of her as well in the excitement. 

“Right so we’ve got a ghost, a killer, a man in a cape, a mysteriously unsold opera box, a young woman taking over an opera role, a mysterious voice coach and now a shattered chandelier,” said Jack. His tone wasn’t leading exactly, but he was clearly going somewhere with the list. 

This seems familiar,” said Gwen. 

“Too familiar. Please tell me it’s not…” said Ianto.

“Oh no…” said Tosh at the same time. 

“If you say Phantom of the Opera, I will fucking punch you, teaboy” said Owen. 

“Actually,” said Tosh with false brightness “ _ I _ was going to say Opera Ghost, which is what he’s referred to as in the original novel and several times in the Universal Horror films.” 

“That’s worse,” said Owen. 

“Alright so someone’s got a bit of an Andrew Lloyd Webber hardon,” said Jack. “Personally I consider myself more of a Sondheim guy.” 

Owen snorted. 

“What? Just wait for the 2019 film version of  _ Cats _ . It gets remembered as one of the worst films ever made. For centuries. My ex-partner used to show it as part torture sessions.” 

The other four Torchwood agents involuntarily shuddered at the thought. 

“A lot of versions of this story end with a riot,” said Ianto carefully, “or at least the Opera House destroyed. Ideally we want to avoid that outcome. Less clean up, anyway.” 

“Then we’ve got a Phantom to catch,” said Jack. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up, but stay together in your units,” said Jack. “Gwen, Ianto with me. Tosh, with Owen.” 

They nodded. In the shadows the figure reappeared, and continued to watch.


	3. Part III

Where did this girl get off to?” said Owen. “That’s the third tech that’s said they haven’t seen her since the chandelier.” 

“Could have taken lunch. Honestly after that I would have just up and left for the day. It’s a lot of a person.” 

“No you wouldn’t have. A normal person like Kristen Day, sure. You? Me? All of us? We’d just have run right into the danger like the adrenaline driven tossers we are.”

“I’d like to think it’s more than that. That we don’t just do it for the adrenaline rush.” 

“Always the idealist, Tosh.” 

“Why do you do it then? You’re a doctor. A good one. You save people. Even in this job. Sure, there’s more guns involved, but you save lives.” 

“Let’s not do backstory right now, Tosh.” 

“Why not?” She laughed. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” 

“Maybe someday. Just...not right now. Come on. Call in and tell Jack we don’t know where Day went off. Let’s hit up the director before checking out the box.

* * *

Ianto and Gwen followed Jack into the catacombs behind the mirror. 

“I think Tosh was right,” said Ianto. “This was definitely part of our base. What are the chances there are two massive underground sewer tunnels in the same Welsh city center?” 

Gwen shone her torch ahead. “Bloody hell!” 

There were cells in the darkness. And in them were chains hanging from the walls. No one was home, but the ends of the chains were ominously open and ready should that chain. 

“That’s a torture chamber,” said Ianto. 

“Either that or someone is having a lot of fun playing out their BDSM fantasies,” said Jack. 

“Hmmmm too much spectacle,” said Ianto. “You could accomplish just as much with some rope and a good imagination.” 

“Annddd that’s officially too much information,” said Gwen. 

“Do you think our Phantom of the Millennium Centre has brought people down here?” asked Ianto, pointedly ignoring her discomfort at his last statement (Gwen was far too easy to tease sometimes). 

“He’s already murdered one person,” said Jack. “Kidnapping and torture doesn’t seem like a big jump. Especially if he really took Gwen earlier. Any of this looking familiar?” 

“Sewer yes, shackles not so much.”

“Right. We should get out of here,” said Ianto. 

Gwen had walked away from the couple (not that two stubborn idiots ever used that word to describe themselves), having noticed something in the distance. 

“There’s water,” said Gwen. “How far does this go?” 

She ran ahead and the others followed. She shone her torch but it wasn’t needed, the beautiful display was illuminated by candle light. Candle light fixated on a quaint little boat.   


* * *

“Mr. Smiths!” said Owen with far too much unnatural false cheer to ever be mistaken as genuine. “Just the man we wanted to see.” 

Smiths looked haunted and uncomfortable. Owen’s caustic tone of voice wasn’t helping. This one of (a few) reasons they usually left the interviews to Gwen. 

“The show must go on,” he muttered to no one in particular. “That’s what they said. ‘The show must go on’. How...does it go on with all this? It can’t go on tonight. It can’t...” 

“Alright mate, looks like we caught you a bad time…” said Owen. “Of course, the dead woman was found in your office, so it’s not like there’s such a thing as a good time…”

“ _ Owen _ …” said Tosh. “Mr. Smiths, listen, we’re investigating the death. Some staff members were saying that they were under impression that maybe Elizabeth had been upset with you because you’d been one to swap out performers.” 

“They made me. Made me do it. Made me put her in.”

“Who’s they…” said Owen.

“Are you talking about her managers?” asked Tosh. 

“No, no...I finalized it with them. With the managers, I did…”

“Okay who asked you to swap performers...and one more bloody time who is  _ THEY.” _

“Kristen...Kristen asked me if she could go on. I don’t...it’s not a good idea isn’t it? She’s not the headliner but I...I said yes. I did. I had second thoughts about it, she’s not a headliner…but well...then he showed up.” 

“And who’s  _ he?” _ It was clear Owen’s already thin patience was waning. 

“The man...the man in the cape. He threatened me...pushed me when I considered not doing it.”

“What was his accent?” asked Tosh. “Welsh? English?”

“He didn’t speak...only acted. I was...I didn’t believe it. There’s something about that man. It wasn’t  _ human _ . But he...I just had this feeling he’d kill me if I didn’t put Kristen in. I don’t think they were working together...Kristen and him...but he wanted her in, I could tell. They both wanted her in...maybe he made her ask the same way he made me…he put his hand on my throat…”

Smiths moved to the side revealing a mark on his lower neck, finger marks that looked a lot like the ones on the victim’s body. 

Owen mouthed ‘ _ shit’.  _

“When Kristen learned what happened she...she told me ‘the show must go on’. And this...this man, I swear I’ve seen around since in the shadows. Watching me from places he shouldn’t be…”

“Jack,” Toshiko said into the comm. “We need to ask Kristen some follow up questions. But until we find her...time to check the opera box.”

* * *

Looks like someone wanted to reenact the boat scene,” said Ianto. “No kidnappee though.”

“And no Phantom Menace,” either said Jack. 

“What’s the endgame to all this?” asked Gwen. 

“Someone is definitely playing on their favorite story here,” said Jack. 

“Why would an alien care about  _ The Phantom of the Opera _ enough to recreate it?” asked Ianto. 

“Some people just really like Earth culture,” said Jack “although for some reason I have a feeling that’s not what this is.” 

* * *

“This is the box,” said Tosh, her torch light around. 

“So if our friend here is really committing plagiarism, then he’s what, living here?” asked Owen. 

“Technically wouldn’t be plagiarism,” said Tosh. “The novel is public domain, I believe. Although Andrew Lloyd Webber has kept the portions of the mythos he’s added under a very tight copyright.” 

“Whoop Dee Fucking Doo,” said Owen flatly. 

There were empty chip containers and wrappers, empty soda cups, and at least one bag of crisps. 

“What does he need the box for?” asked Owen. “He’s got access to what’s probably disused Torchwood tunnels from the dressing room. Why buy out a fucking opera box?” 

“Maybe so he can watch the show,” said Tosh. “I learned recently that apparently aliens are quite fond of opera.” 

“That ended in cannibalism,” said Owen. 

“Not technically cannibalism if they’re not the same species,” said Tosh. 

Owen rolled his eyes some, and moved the Torchlight. 

“There we go,” said Owen. “Someone’s got a DVD.” 

“The movie musical version is dreadful,” said Tosh. “Definitely not Gerald Butler’s best work.”

“Oh don’t worry, that’s not the only one here,” said Owen. “Lon Chaney 1925.” 

There was a music jewelry box tumbled over beside the DVD. Owen opened it, because the unofficial first rule of Torchwood was to touch everything. It played a certain tune Owen would not be suprised to learn came from the fucking musical. And on it danced a wind up figure. A ballerina. Slight and blonde, spinning round and round. On the figure’s tiny neck, was a tiny necklace. 

“Is it me, or does the ballerina look fucking familiar?” said Owen. 

“Quite,” said Tosh. 

“Think the sick fuck had it comissioned, or he picked his obsession based on her looking liking this?”

There was a haunting, beautiful sound. A note just too high for a human octative. There, with a necklace shining bright, was Kristen. 

“Tie him,” she demanded. 

Tosh discovered some rope from, well somewhere (it had to have been cloaked in the darkness), and bound Owen’s hands. Tightly. 

“Tosh? Tosh what the hell?”

Tosh didn’t answer. Instead she tied an additional knot. 

Kristen placed a quick kiss on her lips.

“Now stay here.”

Tosh did exactly what she said, until she was gone. When she came to her senses her own hands were bond. 

* * *

Jack tapped his comm “Toshiko, Owen, what’s the latest update?”

He was met with silence. 

“Toshiko? Owen? If I don’t hear an English accent in the next five minutes…” said Jack. 

“Still nothing,” said Ianto. “Can’t even blame it on the connection in the tunnels; these things work perfectly in the Hub proper.” 

“Let’s move...this cannot be good,” said Jack. 

A figure zoomed through the tunnels behind them. 

* * *

“You have a type,” accused Owen. “That type is blonde and really into evil jewelry.” 

Toshiko resisted the urge to slap him. Just barely. The fact they were both tied up helped. 

“She can’t be our monster,” said Tosh. “She was there when he brought the chandelier down, and she hardly has enhanced strength. Unless…unless she controls him.” 

“My voice, with the help of the necklace, it makes people do what I want them to,” she said. “Erig, he’s a Thrasun. He was just visiting this planet, looking for you. For Torchwood. To help get him home. Ask for Torchwood, and most people send you to bay. He got to the bay. Missed Torchwood by what, a few hundred meters?” 

“Shit,” said Owen. 

“But why? Why are you doing this?!” demanded Tosh. 

“Because I can,” said Kristen. 

“Well I can’t argue with that bloody logic,” Owen muttered. 

“No, there's got to be a better reason for that,” said Tosh. “The necklace must...mess with you. Make you give into your worst impulses.”

“Tosh, look I swear for once I’m not trying to be overly harsh here, but I really think you might be projecting a bit...”

“Owen, shut up! Kristen, look. You don’t have to do this. Let Erig go, we’ll him get Off World or find him asylum here. Just untie us, give us the necklace, and this all goes away.”

“But I don’t want it to! My whole life I’ve wanted my perfect, exciting fairy tale story. Sure, Erig’s no classically romantic Phantom, but I get to be the heroine of the story. The beautiful maiden.” 

“You live in bloody  _ Cardiff _ . If you wanted excitement and romance you could have, I don’t know, fought a Weevil in Bute Park. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. This place is crawling with scifi adventure crap. What you wanted to be special? You’re a bloody opera singer! You could have just waited ten years and been the star of your own thing.” 

“No! I’m done waiting. I’m making this my story!”

Jack, Gwen and Ianto appeared in the box. 

“No, you’re not!” declared Jack in that barnstorming tone of voice. 

“Jack she can control people! It’s the necklace!”

“Shoot him,” declared Kristen. 

Gwen and Ianto drew their guns. Tosh couldn’t tell which one of them shot first. Jack’s body hit the ground with a thud. 


	4. Part IV

Jack returned to life with a desperate gasp of air, and the sudden realization all of his friends were bound with rope. And so was he. 

“Welcome back, Jack,” said Owen. “To recap the opera princess can control people against their will, she left our alien friend here as a guard dog, I’m pretty sure she forced him to kill someone with her necklace, she forced Welsh and Welsher over there to shoot you dead, and now we’re all tied up. Also I think she’s got a little bit of a thing for Tosh. She’s also obnoxiously thorough and had you tied while you were bleeding out on the floor. That or she’s too dumb to check for a pulse and determine when there is none. Jury’s still out there.” 

Jack blinked. “Huh. Alright then.”

“Jack!” Ianto exclaimed. He couldn’t reach him with his arms bound, but his eyes clearly displayed worry and affection. Despite not being able to reach him, he did his best to try. 

“Sweet display considered you shot him,” muttered Owen. 

“ _ OWEN _ , shut up,” demanded Gwen. 

“You also shot him,” said Owen. Gwen shot him a look that said she’d shoot Owen next if he didn’t cut out. Owen got the hint.

Jack looked down at the ties. And then slowly at the team. 

“Ehhhh if it weren’t for the immediate danger this would be  _ really _ hot,” said Jack. 

The other four all groaned. 

“Well he’s fine,” muttered Owen. 

“I think I can get out of this,” said Ianto. “Just have to wiggle at the knots a bit.” 

“We don’t exactly have time for the Houdini act,” said Owen. “Merry Musical Murderess on the loose.” 

Suddenly the “guard dog” that Kristen had positioned sprung forward. Everyone winced expecting someone to get blunged, but instead he very carefully untied Owen’s ropes, and placed them a careful hand on Owen. 

Owen seemed to wince, still expecting some kind of violence, before looking into the alien’s eyes. He broke into a smile. 

“Oh sweet!” said Owen. “That makes sense. Erig, that’s this guy,” he stopped to explain to the others “doesn’t want to be part of this at all. And Kristen left him out of range of her control. He’s helping us.” 

Erig made a loud noise of what was possibly agreement, and untied Tosh’s ropes as well. She quickly made work of Jack’s, and then the others.

Owen continued to study Erig’s expression. He looked down at the floor, avoiding everyone’s gaze. It could have been a cultural difference, or it could have been guilt. Owen thought for a second and then the unkind pieces clicked together. 

“Oh Christ. She really made you kill someone against your will, and you really didn’t want to. Look. I don’t know if you can understand us, but we have these memory drugs...when this is over we can maybe take away the bad stuff...you shouldn’t have to live with this…” 

Erig touched Owen’s arm very carefully and looked at him significantly. There was understanding — Owen was sure of it.

“She was through with the ropes, but she didn’t think to disarm,” said Ianto. 

“Then let’s move kids,” said Jack. 

“Ah yes. What’s that phrase about it not being over until the fat lady sings?” asked Ianto. 

* * *

Kristen stood among the sandbags backstage, looking around as if waiting for someone. That someone could have been Smiths, or it could have been another executive she needed to get through to get on stage. It wouldn’t matter because she was interrupted.   


In typical dramatic fashion Captain Jack had made an entrance. He swung down from the rafters on one of the controlling sandbag ropes, and landed in front of Kristen. 

“Sing for me,” said Jack. 

“Oh no! You know exactly what I’m capable of! Back off.” 

“Funny. I don’t see your ‘phantom’ anywhere around here. You can have me shoot myself, but you're a smart girl. I bet you’ve worked out I’m a little bit more resilient than that.” 

“This is my moment and bloody Torchwood of all people aren’t going to ruin it for me! You people don’t get it! I came from nothing and I clawed myself out. I found this necklace and it’s unlocked so much. There’s so much out there such a bigger world. And in that world: I’m the one that gets to be the center stage.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Should have expected the monologue. I’ve never known an opera singer to come quietly.”

Her hand traced the necklace. 

“I know you’re about to take control of me, make me do your bidding, live out this stupid musical, what have you. But fun fact. Your tunnels connect to our base. Our base where we have long range dart guns. And you’re not the only one that has people hang out in theater boxes. And those boxes, are out range of you right now.” 

Gwen and Ianto watching from above, took the cue. They each shot a tranquilizer dart. True to the character she had built for herself, Kristen daintily passed out with a hand to forehead. 

Outside there were lights and sirens. Andy and his friends surrounded the opera house, and were ready to take her into custody. 

* * *

The dim lights of the Torchwood Hub flickered overhead Tosh at her station.

”The necklace has been archived and secured away,” announced Ianto as he walked up. 

Tosh glanced at him and at the rest of the team that had gathered around with a nod. “The evidence pointing to Kristen, now newly without aliens assistance, has been planted,” she said. “She should be formally charged in a few hours. Although with the motive of ‘understudy’, even without the alien addition I’m sure most people will have thought to consider her without our intervention. Smiths has been retconned and so has Erig. The transport we arranged for him is currently warping it’s way through the stratosphere.” 

“Good work Tosh,” said Jack. 

While she wanted to bask in the compliment, but the day's events weighed heavily on shoulders. “I think feel bad for her. No worse, I think I understand her,” admitted Tosh. “Oh don’t get me wrong, she’s an absolute monster who definitely failed every sixth forum literature analysis essay she’s ever been assigned. But I understand well, wanting to be a classical heroine for once. And wanting to be in control of your own narrative.” 

“Wanting to be more than the lot she was given, I do get that.” Ianto muttered. 

“Knowing there’s something bigger out there and feeling locked out of it…” Gwen muttered in turn. 

“But last I checked none of you were completely homicidal maniacs,” said Owen. “Not will you stop comparing yourselves to psycho that tried to kill us all? It’s depressing enough down here. Besides, we saved Erig. That’s got to count to something,” said Owen. “He’s out there now, on his way back to his home planet. Good bloke, that one.” 

Everyone sighed. But after a moment of silence Ianto decided to be the one to speak up. 

“Another day saved,” he declared dryly. “Anyone for Pizza?” 

And with Torchwood’s trademark favorite takeaway offered, everyone dispersed, having decided to count this one as won. Everyone except Tosh as she continued to stare at her computer, illuminated by the glow of the screen. 

* * *

Tosh was the last one out of the base. Even Jack had left with Ianto back to his. Because she was alone, she hadn’t expected Owen to be waiting for her outside the tourist office. She nearly squeaked in surprise. 

“Look,” said Owen. “Sorry I was such an arse,” said Owen. “About Kristen and well, you know. The comparison to you know who.”

“It’s fine,” she said, because she always forgave him in the end. “I mean you were right...I was projecting a little about seeing good in her.” 

“Yeah but I was still a twat to you. So you know, sorry, or whatever.” 

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I have to say: You were sweet with Erig,” she said with a bit of a laugh. 

“Yeah well don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to maintain.” 

“A bit late for that,” said Tosh. “I’m pretty sure everyone saw it.” She laughed slightly. “Although I have to say if I wasn’t soured on Opera already from last time...I think I am now.” 

“Oh. I guess it’s not really opera, but I was going to suggest we watch one of the  _ Phantom of the Opera  _ movies...maybe not the sing-y one if it sucks so bad, but one of the old timey ones.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah team bonding! We can bully Ianto into making us popcorn and everything.” 

“Oh right. The team. _Yay bonding_.”   


The pair walked on to their cars outside in the cold Cardiff air in companionable silence. As they walked the plass the lettering on the Millennium Centere opera shone bright illuminating the bay. Just below their feet, the recognizable half mask Erig had been forced to wear was still hanging on the tunnel walls. Waiting for such a time that someone else found it.

Fin. 

**Author's Note:**

> “Last time” they were at the opera house is a reference to the audio Dinner and a Show. Ianto and a very drunk Tosh field a mission involving many alien visitors going to see a show.


End file.
